Here's to Never Getting Shot
by RebelzHeart
Summary: Ned gets shot. Peter panics. Oneshot


Somebody screamed.

Which, yeah, was totally okay.

Getting help, getting people's attention, and all that.

Great.

Fantastic.

Except.

There was nobody around to help except _Ned_ and he wasn't quite sure how he was going to do that, seeing as he was armed with nothing but a (very heavy, if he were completely honest) math textbook and a cell phone.

Okay.

First things first.

Ned looks around ( _residential area, nobody around but him..._ ) and calls 911. He quickly offers the address, and, gathering his courage, looks around to see what looks like a college student held at gunpoint by a mugger.

Oh man.

Oh _man_.

 _Holy fudge and noodles he is so dead_.

Ned reports the situation in as quiet a voice as he can say except the mugger is getting angry and waving the gun around ( _he's dead he's dead he's dead_ ) and it's getting dangerous and oh boy the gun is pointed at him and now the trigger...

In hindsight? Ned doesn't regret it. There was nothing else he could do.

Also in hindsight? Ned blames Peter for rubbing off on him with his stupid martyr type behavior.

He jumps in front of the gun and yells _run_ and there's a bullet in his shoulder ( _oh gosh oh gosh oh freaking that hurts so bad how does Peter deal with this_ ) and the mugger is snarling _do you understand that I'm serious now_ and Ned bites back the pain long enough to smash his math textbook in the mugger's head, who only gets angry and he's _dead_ and the woman on the phone line is shouting now but her voice is tiny because he didn't put the phone on speaker and...

" _Ned_!" A shrill scream ( _Peter oh good oh gosh he's fine now he's safe now he can panic without worrying about being shot_ _... again_ ) and there's the sound of someone grunting as the gun is webbed and Peter drops down in all his Spider-manned glory onto the mugger.

The mugger goes down _hard_ and Peter is examining him, panicking as he does that thing where he replaces swear words with ice cream flavors under his breath.

"Ned, Ned, I need you to _breathe_..." Panic and Ned thinks _this is Peter's nightmare scenario this is what he texts me at midnight about and here I am just dying except I'm not even scared and he's scared wow this is stupid wait I'm dying wow that's stupid, too, I'm fifteen, I'm not supposed to die yet_ and oops he's saying all that out loud, isn't he. He's totally pulling a Peter. And now Peter's breathing steadily, clear and _Spider-man_ as he brings the phone to his ear, "ETA? Good. We have one shot civilian, teenager, shoulder wound..." he examines Ned, "No exit wound, you'll need to pull it out. Slightly below the collar bone... yes, yes."

Peter shoots a web over Ned's wound and props him up against the wall so that he's sitting up, keeping his hand pressed firm against Ned's not-shot shoulder and staring blankly at him even as he relays the situation to the woman on the phone in a clear, concise report.

Ned breathes.

In.

Out.

Maybe there's an ambulance in the distance (he thinks he hears something, but maybe that's just the blood rushing to his head as he slumps over).

He doesn't know.

Ned passes out.

* * *

He wakes up to a room of white, walls so pale they seem like mirrors, room bathed in artificial light and a light blanket over him. He's in a little, reclining bed and there is a nurse in blue scrubs examining his... uh, whatever it is that's showing on that machine.

"Morning," he doesn't know if it _is_ morning, but it seems the polite thing to say, nonetheless.

"Ah," the nurse starts a bit. He smiles a bit at Ned, pulling on a pierced ear (no earrings, they interfere with the machinery) and running his fingers over his scrubs. "You gave us quite the scare, there, getting shot."

"Spider-man... Spider-man was there?" Ned guesses awkwardly.

The nurse's smile turns a bit more genuine this time, as though amused by Ned's wonder, "Yes, he was. Left a sticky note with you, as a keepsake, I suppose. Has his little doodles and everything. Not everyone your age can boast that."

"Lame," Ned clucks, "I get shot saving someone and all I get is a sticky note with out vigilante's signature? Probably wouldn't even get ten thousand on eBay."

"Truly unfortunate," The nurse says, dry but amused. "Besides Spider-man, your parents are in the waiting room, getting some much needed rest and one of your friends has been pacing for the past hour or so."

"Female?" Ned tilts his head to the side.

"Male," The nurse laughs, "Hoping for your girlfriend?"

Ned shudders, "Nah. But if MJ found out that I was here, she'd rag on me for _months_. I'd never be allowed to be the mom friend ever again."

"And that's a bad thing," the nurse raises his eyebrows.

"It is when you consider the alternative," Ned nods.

The nurse swipes a hand through his hair, "Good to know. I assume you want to see your friend?"

Ned brightens, "Please."

The nurse leaves, and barely seconds later, Peter stumbles in. He almost trips over the door frame but manages to catch himself by doing an impressive flip, going into an impromptu handstand and flipping back down. Unfortunately, it doesn't stick and he ends up stumbling and tripping anyway.

Ned leans over his bed to laugh at Peter's prone form on the floor, smiling a little fondly at Peter's bright red and yellow Iron man styled knit shawl. There is only one button, big and pastel blue, a vague imitation of the arc reactor, and a little frilly pattern on the shoulders imitating his armor's shoulder plates. "Hey, Peter," he says, a bit breathlessly.

Peter beams up at Ned from his spot on the floor and leaps up, casting an awkward glance at the nurse who is standing at the door and watching with an amused little grin. "You're alive!"

"Unfortunately," Ned grins to show that he's kidding. "And you?"

Peter offers Ned a smile as gooey as melted butter, "I'm fantastic now that you're awake."

Ned scrunches up his nose, "Dude, that's like, veering into romance territory."

"I don't care," Peter huffs, "You're okay and that's all that matters."

"Does MJ know?" Ned asks, twiddling his thumbs.

"Seeing as it's Sunday and you got shot on Saturday, not yet," Peter narrows his eyes, "But you get hurt like that again and I'm texting her, first thing."

"It's not like I _planned_ on getting shot!" Ned protests.

"I hear, but don't care," Peter crossed his arms over his chest, "You could have _died_."

"Um, I think you're being a _little_ dramatic."

"Am not! Bullets are deadly!"

"Nooo."

"Don't be sarcastic. I am _trying_ to be concerned and mushy with you right now."

"Stop. It's worrisome."

Peter huffed, "Fine. When you get out, I was hoping that we could watch some ATLA?"

"Yeah," Ned softens and smiles at Peter, "Sounds great."

(Someday, Ned will talk to Peter about how often Peter gets shot. About how often he gets hurt, and says _I have to be a hero because nobody else will_. Someday, Ned will talk about it and force away that guilty look in Peter's eyes as he stares at the scar on Ned's shoulder.

Someday.

But for now, he's _bored_ because there's nothing to _do_ in a hospital.)


End file.
